


Sweet Nothings

by annabellelux



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Deleted Scene, I took some artistic liberties and made this hornier than the original fic, Just a couple boys getting feral in a cave, M/M, Praise Kink, Remix, Smut, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/pseuds/annabellelux
Summary: Baz asks Simon to meet him down by the lake for a rendezvous, and ends up drowning in Simon's sweet nothings.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 40
Kudos: 260
Collections: Carry On Remix





	Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SHARKMARTINI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/gifts).
  * Inspired by [If you don't have anything nice to say](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659888) by [SHARKMARTINI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI). 



> This is a remix for SHARKMARTINI's 'If you don't have anything nice to say'-it serves as the cave scene, except with more face fucking than I believe was intended. 
> 
> @ Winnie, I really hope you enjoy, it's been a joy to reread all your work these couple of months and reimagine one of my favorite fics! 
> 
> Thanks for the beta help & for listening to me panic, [@giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu), [@thedaggerrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedfetish/pseuds/thedaggerrose), and [@xivz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz)!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the porn.

**Baz**

_"Your hair looks so soft. It makes me want to touch it."_

There is no way he meant that. 

_"You're the most graceful person I've ever seen."_

He must have been joking. 

_"The truth is I'm desperately attracted to you."_

I let out a groan of frustration into my hands. This has to be a plot. Simon Snow is plotting against me. Snow has finally found my greatest weakness—which, unfortunately, turns out to be him stammering praise at me. And he's decided to let my mortification do all the burdensome work of murder for him—because Simon Snow's compliments are definitely going to be the death of me. 

I'm rushed with pangs of mortification remembering my clumsy proposition earlier today: _"Er- as it stands, I am also attracted to you. We might- if you want- meeting by the lake sometime could be… nice."_

Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah. Why did I invite him down to meet me by the _lake?_

Because I want to see if he'll show. Because teenage hormones are as overpowering as drugs. Because I want to use my mouth to exact my revenge for all the careless flattery, for every time he made my heart skip a beat these last couple of weeks. 

Because I am desperately—recklessly, dangerously, immutably—attracted to him. 

I rub my hands together to warm my fingertips. In my rush to leave the room after inviting him here, I completely forgot my gloves. I thought maybe I'd get to warm them up on his skin, but Snow is already—I glance at my wristwatch to check—eleven minutes late. 

_This is a joke,_ I think, _I'm a joke, he's probably just sitting up in our bedroom laughing at me, stupid, stupid, stupid—_

I hear his heavy footsteps stomping into the mouth of the cave. 

"Baz," Snow whispers—well, he tries to whisper. It comes out as more of a hushed yell. "Baz!" 

I run my fingers through my hair one last time, inadvertently mussing up the gel. "Could you _be_ any less discreet, Snow?" I snarl, coming out from my hiding place behind a large rock. I square my shoulders and clench my jaw, trying to appear as cool and collected as I usually do, despite the fact that my knees are buckling. 

This is it—the moment of truth. Snow's going to say what he's here for. He's going to admit that he was just messing with me, just taking the piss, just trying to see how far I'd take this. 

Simon says, "You look nice tonight." 

I melt like ice in the blazing sun. 

I hiss, "Just get over here!" But I'm too impatient to wait for him to touch me.

I lunge at him, grabbing the back of his neck and catching him by the mouth.

Our teeth clash due to my overeagerness, and I'm mildly humiliated by my blunder. But Snow pushes on like he hasn't noticed, or like maybe that's a known casualty of kissing. (I wouldn't know, seeing as this is my first one.) He seems to know what he's doing, so I let him take the lead. 

I don't regret it. 

As inadequate as Snow is at most things that have to do with his mouth—such as articulating properly and eating without spitting half his scone onto the table—he is an expert at _this_. 

He tastes as sweet as his words—like cherries, like euphoria. I shiver as his hands wander down from my shoulder blades and settle on my hips. His touch is exhilarating; every spot he touches burns as if my body's a match for his flame. I've never so craved being set alight. 

I wonder if I can ignite a fire in him too—whether I can burn him through with pleasure right back. 

I shove him backwards against the cave wall, and his head hits stone with a gentle thud. He still keeps enthusiastically snogging me with a contagious greed. _More, more, more,_ I plead, and Snow answers my silent prayer; he pushes his hips forward so they collide with mine. 

When our groins meet, I let out a noise I'm sure I've never made before—a desperate, needy whine several octaves higher than my regular voice. 

It spurs Simon on further. He withdraws his hips for a half a moment, and then surges them back into mine with heady purpose. Our arousal builds as we grind together—I can feel it in the way he trembles, can hear it in the way I keen. The way we move is as natural as breathing, and, in my exhilaration, I'm convinced my body was made just for it.

This is so similar to my fantasies, yet so different. I'd envisioned the way he'd be as audacious and rough during sex as he is on the battlefield, daydreamed about the sounds of his breathy exhales and animalistic grunts, imagined the sensation of his hard cock against mine. But I never let myself dwell on how it'd affect my usually slow and silent heartbeat, how emotion would clog my throat, how I'd all but choke on the intensity of my affection. 

I silently swallow my devotion and decide to put my mouth to better use: I sink to my knees. 

Snow's mouth drops open in astonishment as I unfasten his belt buckle. He's often got a clueless expression on—especially around me—but this look is wholly new. A kind of delighted shock that not even magic's had the power to enchant him into. 

I raise my eyebrow in a question I believe I already know the answer to. 

"Yes! Yes, yes, please, yes," he babbles his response as I pull down his trousers and pants in one go. His cock springs out, hard and ready and wanting. 

I realise, with Simon Snow's hard-on leaking precum right in my face, that I don't know what to do. 

I mean—I've seen porn. I get the _theory_ of blowjobs. I'm just not positive on the proper logistics. Is my mouth wet enough? Do I start by licking or sucking? How does one ensure there is absolutely no teeth involved in the equation? 

_"Baz."_ He says my name like a plea, like a prayer, and his wanton desperation gives me the courage to start, my naïveté be damned. 

I begin to lick at the underside of his cock—it seems like the safest way to start. He lets out a satisfied groan, and the noise reassures me that I'm on the right track. I grip at the base of his cock, and he lets out a lusty moan. A swell of confidence floods my chest. 

"Oh, so good. Fuck. _Baaaz_." He breaks my name with another moan. I never thought I'd hear him say my name like that anywhere but my fantasies. I want to play the sound on a loop, hear it every time I get myself off. I look up from his cock to see he's staring right at me; I'm pleased to see the overt desperation on his pleading face. "Keep going, oh, you feel so good, you look so pretty like that, _oh!"_

He exclaims loudly when I swallow him down all at once. It's sloppier than I anticipated. Quickly, I've got spit running down my chin and I have to concentrate a bit on breathing through my nose, but the litany of dirty talk spilling out of Snow is all the encouragement I need to convince myself to proceed anyways. 

"Merlin, Baz. I love seeing you on your knees. _Fuck._ You have—oh, God—you have a perfect mouth."

It's only been a minute, but his voice is a broken thing already. Like our foreplay had already wrecked him, and this rapid incline to the crescendo is almost too much for him to bear. I slow down my pace. Because, if I had to guess, I'd say Snow's a virgin too, and I want this to last longer. I want to keep hearing sweet nothings fall from his mouth. 

I slide my mouth up and down his cock, swirling my tongue around the tip, drawing out his passionate exclamations. "Oh, Jesus fuck, you were made for this," he croons, low and earnest and dirty. "We were made for this, oh, oh, _fuck me,_ oh God." 

I'm so turned on by Simon's adulations and Normal swearing that my cock is straining uncomfortably against my tight trousers. I cup myself over the corduroy and get only the slightest bit of relief. I groan in frustration—since my mouth is still on his cock, Simon very much appreciates the vibration. 

"Fuck!" He chokes out, like I've punched it out of him. "You're so good, so fit, God, I love you like this." He notices me palming myself, and says. "Touch yourself for me. Fuck. I-I want to see how much you want me. _Oh._ Baz, I want to see you cum." 

I don't need any more prompting than that. I wank him with one hand and unbutton my trousers with the other. The button catches once, twice, before finally unlatching. I rip the zipper down eagerly, shove my pants down around my thighs, and wrap my hand around my hard cock. The relief is instant, and so much better for the waiting. 

I pull my wand out of my back pocket and cast, " **Slippery When Wet**." The magical lube mixes with the pool of my precum. 

"Merlin, Jesus, you look so good like that, you have a perfect cock, Baz, yeah, stroke yourself, just like that, oh, fuck," Simon babbles between groans. 

I match our paces, stroking both of us quickly and with a slight twist of the wrist at the tip. It's my favourite trick for getting myself off, and Simon seems to fancy it as well. He's bucking his hips at me, chasing the bliss I'm drawing out of him like a conductor of a symphony: a symphony of his moans and dirty talks and breathy sighs, the most beautiful orchestra I've ever heard. 

"Suck me, please, more, please, please, I want to feel your mouth on me, you look so pretty like that, please," he pleads. I oblige, if only halfway—I swirl my tongue around his tip, teasing more desperate whines out of him. He tugs on my hair and I groan, causing him to buck his cock halfway into my mouth.

"S-sorry!" He apologizes. "I-I didn't mean—"

"Do that again," I demand. 

His eyes widen and he bites his lip. But he doesn't argue; he wants this as badly as I do. He gathers my hair in a ponytail at my crown and gently thrusts his hips forward. 

I pull off to scowl at him. _"Harder,"_ I insist. Because I don't know if I'll get this again, and if I won't ever experience Simon Snow again, I want to at least be able to taste the memory in the back of my throat later. 

He gives it to me good, tugging on my hair as he fucks my face. All I feel, all I can breathe, is him. His voice breaks and hitches and cries as confessions fall from his lips like prophecies. 

"Fuck, I want you, mmm, I've always wanted you, oh, Baz, I-I've thought about this, Jesus, I've wanted this, so long, fuck, oh, Baz, this is how— fuck!—it's supposed to be, oh God, oh, Baz!" 

His declarations echo off the walls of the cave, loud and true in my ears, and lust takes over my body completely. It's animalistic and primal; it erases all my own thoughts, replaces all the space in my brain with his voice. 

There's precum on my hands, on my tongue, down my throat. Our movements become more imprecise and sloppy—but no less eager—as we race to the finish. He's still babbling praise at me as I take his cock in my mouth over and over, but it's becoming more and more incoherent.

"Mmm, God, Baz, you're, fuck, pretty, I, Jesus, want, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, God, Baz!" Simon Snow yells my name like it's a curse, like it's magic, like it's the thing that is making him come undone. 

We lock eyes, and then his cum hits the back of my throat. I swallow instinctively as he releases all his pleasure with pained gasps. When he's finished, he leaves only a hint of something thick and salty on my tongue. 

Well. That, and an aching in my own cock. 

He recovers more quickly than I anticipated, pulling me up roughly by the collar and earning a startled _"oh"_ from me before he smashes our lips together messily. 

He licks inside my mouth, and my stomach churns with a surprised thrill at the realisation that he doesn't mind tasting himself on my tongue. If anything, I suspect it's turning him on a little, because he grabs my cock with a tangible eagerness. 

I throw my head back with a moan. He whispers in my ear. "You like that?" His voice is ragged and rough, tickling my earlobe. Then, he starts sucking on the side of my neck; I react by whining and bucking my hips into his warm hands. My eyes are screwed shut, but his face is tattooed on the back of my eyelids: smirking, smug, sexy. Simon fucking Snow. "Fuck yes, you do. You sound so good like that. _Fuck,_ Baz. Come for me. Come, come on, baby."

The pet name is what finally does it; I explode in a rush of sensation that starts in my toes and shoots up my body in ecstatic waves of pleasure. Simon keeps wanking me through my orgasm as I shudder against him. 

When it's over, I can hear nothing but our labored breaths. Simon's face is still buried in my neck, exhaling hot wet air against my skin. 

"So," Snow breaks the silence. "That was… nice." 

I huff out a reluctant breath of laughter, and respond with an understatement of my own: "It was adequate, Snow." 

We both reach to pull up our trousers. I spell us both **Clean As A Whistle** , carefully avoiding his searching gaze. 

We make our way back to the dorms quietly. I'm unsure if the silence between us is for the purpose of avoiding detection since we're breaking curfew, or if it's because Snow has nothing left to say to me after spending the majority of the sex babbling. 

Merlin. I fucked Simon Snow. Simon Snow fucked me. 

Snow holds the door to Mummer's open for me. I feel the gesture in my chest, and murmur out a soft thanks. He follows me up the stairs to our bedroom, and I force myself not to look back. 

When the door clicks closed behind me, our room—relatively large compared to our classmates—suddenly feels small. 

Silence continues to stretch, until—once again—Snow breaks it. 

Unfortunately, he does so by bursting into unrestrained laughter. 

"Merlin, we just went down to the _lake,"_ Snow manages to choke out between chuckles. "We, we—" He can't even finish his sentence; he's so preoccupied with theatrically clutching his stomach.

I'll admit I'm not intimately familiar with proper post-coital behavior, but I'm fairly certain it's not to _laugh_ at your partner. 

"Don't hurt yourself, Chosen One," I snap bitterly, more defensively than I intend in my humiliation. "You showed up for it, so you don't really have room to take the piss and be an arsehole about it just because you regret—" 

"No, no, no!" Snow says, his words rushed and eyes wide. "That's—that's not what I meant—I meant. Baz. We went to the _lake_ , when"—he gestures wildly around him—"we have our own room here. A room with _beds._ " 

Oh. 

_Oh._

I join in on his laughter this time—feeling pleased at the idea of me and Snow together in bed, even though I'm a little embarrassed I didn't realise that was the superior option prior to this point. 

"So," Snow says, with a crooked smirk and a wicked glint in his eyes. "Fancy another round?"

Love and desire overwhelm me—and there's nothing I can do but agree. 

I grin wolfishly, before diving in to drown in Simon Snow's pretty words over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you haven't yet, remember to check out 'If you don't have anything nice to say', it's a straight up masterpiece. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, & come find me on [Tumblr](https://annabellelux.tumblr.com) if you like chaotic messes.


End file.
